


You and Me Both, Kid

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke's freshmen are concerned they're fighting, so they lock them in a closet. Bellamy's less than pleased with the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and Me Both, Kid

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like writing a quick fluffy college thing, so I did! There is no story here. This note is not a necessary note.

"We probably should have seen this coming," Clarke says, dry.

Bellamy kicks the door one more time, mostly so anyone outside knows that he's still fucking pissed, and then slumps down on the floor next to Clarke. In terms of places to be locked, it's not actually the worst. Someone cleared out the storage closet on the third floor, so it's cramped, but there's enough room for them to sit, side-by-side, and stretch out their legs. It's not like they have to be pressed together to fit or anything. It's practically comfortable, as jails go.

"Why? We're not fighting? We're not doing anything."

"Definitely not," she agrees, straight-faced, serious, and Bellamy gives in and scowls. "See?" she says, but there's an odd tone to her voice now. "You're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," he says, and it's the truth.

"We're not fighting, because you'd have to be talking to me to be fighting with me. So, yeah, I'm with you on that. But you're not talking to me, so if you're not mad, I'd like another explanation. While we're here." She's looking at her hands, which is one of her nervous ticks, and Bellamy's heart lurches. He'd been hoping she just hadn't noticed. That no one would notice. "I thought we were doing better, this semester."

"We are," he says. And they are. He and Clarke managed to get off on the worst possible foot at the start of the year--he'd run into her moving into the dorms the first day, and he'd just assumed, since she was young and looked vaguely frazzled, that she was one of his new freshman, and he'd been most of the way through his long, rambling welcome speech before she said, "Actually, I'm the RA."

They'd recovered from there, albeit slowly. He'd heard of her before, Clarke Griffin, skipped a couple grades, mother on the board of trustees, on the fast-track to becoming the youngest doctor in history, blah blah blah. Bellamy wrote her off as a spoiled rich girl that first week, and then spent the rest of the semester realizing, in painful detail, how wrong she was. They made a good team, as RAs; they tended to agree on things, which caught him by surprise. Clarke had similar opinions on which infractions were serious and which could be dismissed, and all of the freshmen feel comfortable going to one or the other of them when they have issues. There's no one else Bellamy would rather have on his side than Clarke.

Which is kind of the problem.

He runs his hand through his hair. "I just felt like we--this is a professional relationship, right? We don't need to be hanging out. If you're at a party, it's better for me to be here, in case anyone needs one of us. We shouldn't be off spending time together."

"Or, you know, we both have cell phones, and one of us doesn't have to be here literally twenty-four hours a day. They're not kids, Bellamy."

" _You're_ a kid," he teases, but it falls a little flat. He used to make fun of her about her age, during the month-long period when they actually got along, because--god, she's _nineteen_ , stupidly competent, and kind of brilliant. And, again, his entire issue.

She hugs her knees up against her chest, resting her chin against them. "Seriously, I don't know what I did. Everything was cool, and now even our freshman have noticed you're being weird. I didn't think they'd literally trick us into getting locked in a closet together, but--can you actually blame them? You've barely said three words to me in the last week."

"I can still blame them," he mutters, and rubs his face. "Look, it's not a big deal. I'm not mad at you. I've just been busy and stressed and--"

She punches him in the arm, _hard_. There was someone in Clarke Griffin's life who taught her how to throw a punch, and no one who ever taught her to pull one. "I might be nineteen, but I'm not a fucking idiot. We don't have to be friends to do this job, but I thought we _were_ getting to be friends. And I don't know what that stopped, but it sucks, okay? I didn't do anything wrong," she adds, almost bitter, spitting it.

"You didn't," he agrees. He lets his head drop against the wall, eyes sliding shut. She hadn't said anything before. He thought she was maybe--he doesn't know what he thought, honestly. He thought she didn't mind losing him. "It's stupid."

"Clearly."

He snorts. "Thanks."

"It is _you_ doing it," she says, and shifts a little closer, the warmth of her all up and down his side. He is going to murder Jasper and Monty. Mostly Jasper. He was definitely the mastermind. "Of course it's stupid. Tell me anyway."

"I want to make out with you," he says, which is really not the best way to have this conversation, but--well, there is no good way to have this conversation. It's going to fucking suck no matter what he does. "I, uh--I was thinking about asking you out? On a date? And then I overheard you talking to, uh, Harper. About her thing for Jasper?" Clarke is looking at him with an unreadable expression, which is the worst. He should really, just--try to beat his head against the wall until he passes out. "Anyway, uh, you said it was a bad idea to date people who live in your dorm, which is true and you're right, so I figured it would be better if I just kind of didn't hang out with you. Until I stopped. Wanting to make out with you."

"How's that working out for you?"

"The closet kind of sucks, honestly. It's not helping."

Clarke worries her lip. "I really do think it's a bad idea," she says. "You know, uh--stuff goes wrong, especially, freshmen, they're kind of--this one guy in my dorm hooked up with like half the dorm within the first three months of classes, which was a very awkward way for him to embrace his bisexuality, and I told him so. He should have followed my example and hooked up at parties. And there was a guy who, uh, dated me, even though he had a girlfriend back home, and I had to keep seeing him for the rest of the year, that sucked. Plus Jasper's not interested in her, so--I figured that would be the best way to talk her out of it without hurting her feelings."

"Like I said, I don't disagree," Bellamy says. "Just--"

Clarke's hand is on his jaw, sudden, and before he can quite process that, she's kissing him.

Bellamy keeps his own hands resolutely on the ground, but he can't help kissing her back, because how could he not kiss her back? If she wants to make out too, even just for a minute, he's going to take advantage of it.

"It's such a bad idea," Clarke says, tangling her hand in his hair and tugging gently. She's beaming, and he's pretty sure he is too. "Like, the worst idea."

"Uh huh," he says, kissing her again. 

"Catastrophic. What are you doing this summer?"

"What?"

She still hasn't really pulled that far away from him, which makes it hard to concentrate. She's warm and smiling, and at some point he gave up on not touching her, tugged her into his lap, and it's perfect. 

It's also the worst idea, especially considering their freshmen actually locked them in here, and they're at some point going to come back. It's going to be bad, if they find Clarke in his lap. 

He slides his hand under her shirt anyway, making her laugh and drop her head against his neck. "Bellamy."

"What?"

"What are you doing this summer?"

"Working. I've got something lined up with the history department, and I'm probably doing some volunteer stuff. Whatever I can find on campus." 

He tries to kiss her again, and she lets it happen for a second before she pulls back, laughing. " _Bellamy_."

"Clarke."

"We should wait." He blinks at her, and she flushes. "I know I probably shouldn't have kissed you," she adds. "I just--I want to make out with you too, so it felt like a good idea. Just--at least once. But, you know, we have, um. Responsibilities. It was really--it was pretty hard to convince the RA selection board that I was actually old enough for the job, and I don't want to undermine that by hooking up with my co-RA. Not that--" She presses her face against his neck again, and he remembers she is nineteen, and she skipped some grades and is a little out of her depth sometimes, and all he wants to do is hold on tight and make sure she's okay.

"So, what you're saying is if I ask you on a date after the semester ends, you'll say yes," he supplies, pressing his lips against her temple.

"I will definitely say yes."

"And I should stop being a dick about having a massive crush on you."

"That'd be nice, yeah." There's a pause, and then she says, " _Massive_?"

"Massive," he agrees. He offers her half a smile. "I was gone pretty much as soon as my sister came to visit and you made sure she had the best time ever."

"I liked her."

"She liked you too. She definitely told me to make out with you. And I was figuring out, you know. Asking you on a date. Then the Harper thing happened, and I figured I should stop trying."

"And ignore me so hard our freshmen decided we'd broken up."

"Our freshmen thought we were dating?"

She laughs and presses her lips against his jaw before sliding off him, sitting back on the floor. "Freshmen always think their RAs are dating. They briefly stopped when they saw me with Lexa last semester, but then I told Monty I was bi because he was working through his sexuality, so they figured we could still be dating, once I broke up with Lexa."

"I'm so glad I wasn't aware of any of this."

"You're scarier than I am. They don't want to talk to you about your love life."

"Thank god, I have a shitty poker face."

Clarke sighs and tugs him down for another kiss. "You can't keep being like this, I'm not going to be able to--"

"This is why I wasn't talking to you."

"Yeah, but I _like_ talking to you."

Bellamy drops his forehead against hers, grinning. "I like talking to you too. So, uh, day after the freshmen are gone. Dinner?"

"Dinner," she agrees.

They're playing some weird game she's got on her phone when they hear the click of the door unlocking, but Monty and Jasper are gone by the time they get to it. Bellamy was honestly expecting them to be there, bursting into the closet and hoping to catch them in the act. Probably they were just terrified that Bellamy would murder them if he saw them. Which he might have. But, really, given they just unlocked the door and ran, he kind of wishes he and Clarke had just made out the whole time. He's pretty sure that once they're out of here, they aren't going to get to do this again until the end of the semester.

He really should have kissed her more.

"So, what are we going to do to them?" he asks, as they leave the closet and head back to the dorm.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"They're gonna be waiting for us to do something. They're gonna be terrified if we just--never mention it. And maybe smile at them. A lot. Like we're planning something."

Bellamy breaks out laughing, and he can acknowledge that some part of it is relief. He's going to get to talk to Clarke again. Terrorize their freshmen with her. And, in a few months, he's going to get to kiss her again. As experiences being locked in an enclosed space with someone he was avoiding go, that one was pretty much ideal.

"So, you just want us to make them into paranoid wrecks?"

"Basically," Clarke agrees, and sobers. "That was--good," she says, with a light blush. "But it could have gone really wrong. If there had been an emergency, or one of us was claustrophobic, or--a lot of things could have gone wrong. They deserve to squirm a little."

"We did have phones," he says, a little amused. "But you're right. Let's let them squirm."

And squirm they do. They're in the common room playing video games when Bellamy goes to grab his leftover Thai out of the fridge, and they both freeze at the sight of him.

"Hey guys," he says, casual.

Jasper looks at Monty, and Monty looks away. "Hi," says Jasper. "Uh, how's it going?"

"History paper." He finds a fork and the leftovers and adds, "I'll see you guys later," in a vaguely ominous tone, and he hears them whispering to each other as he goes back to his room.

When he opens the door, Clarke is at his desk, reading one of his textbooks, and he pushes the door shut behind him, in case there's--well, he can't imagine there is any universe where he wants any of their freshmen to overhear this conversation.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi. You know, you should lock your door, anyone could come in."

He wets his lips and turns the lock, and then puts down his food. "So, uh, I freaked out Jasper and Monty in the common room," he says, mostly to delay whatever conversation is coming.

"Cool." She bites her lip and says, "So, it seems kind of--pointless. To, you know. Like, either I'm going to still want to date you at the end of the year, or I'm not, and if I stop wanting to, it's going to be awkward no matter what, and this sort of weird--future dating thing isn't actually better? Than just. Dating. You. I think."

Bellamy pauses, trying to follow that. "One more time?" he finally asks, because he thinks she's asking him out, and he'd like to be very sure before he does something stupid.

Clarke huffs. "If you do something to piss me off enough I stop wanting to date you, I want it to be _after_ I start dating you, so--we should just do that now."

"So, to clarify," he teases, walking over to meet her at the desk, "you would like to be dating me right now."

"I would have liked to be dating you a few months ago, so, yeah, we might as well get started now," Clarke says, and pulls him down for another kiss.

*

In the morning, he's very glad he locked the door, because someone is rapping on it and Clarke's naked in his bed.

He grabs his pajama pants and tugs them on, and then sort of throws his sheets over Clarke, covering up her hair and face. It won't be the first time one of the freshmen has discovered him with a girl in his room, but it is the first time in a while, and the last thing either of them needs is anyone realizing who, exactly, he was sleeping with. And is going to continue to sleep with as much as possible. Because they're dating.

He's grinning kind of stupidly when he opens the door; it only makes Monty look more sheepish. He's not going to be able to keep up the freaking out Monty thing. Jasper is fine, but Monty is basically like a tiny puppy. Jasper's like a tiny puppy who just peed on his bed.

"Are you going to murder me?" he asks.

"No," Bellamy says. "Don't tell Jasper."

"I won't." He looks past Bellamy, sees the lump in the bed, and suddenly his eyes go calculating. "Is that--"

"Actually, I might kill you," says Bellamy.

"Fair enough," says Monty. He salutes. "I promise to never lock you in a closet for your own good again."

"You better not."

Bellamy closes the door, verifies it's locked, and goes back to flop next to Clarke. "So, like, a month before the kids notice?"

She pulls the covers off her head just so she can give him an unimpressed look. "A week. If we're lucky."

"Yeah," he grants. "Okay." He leans in to kiss her good morning. "Worth it."


End file.
